


Green Thumb, Sticky Fingers

by swiftishere



Series: MSA One-Shots [13]
Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Deadbeats as Cats, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Implied/Referenced Death, Stealing, and a disaster human being who trips and falls facefirst into a friendship with lewis, another thing i'd like to continue but probably never will, arthur; a known criminal and parkour aficionado, not of anyone you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24385693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiftishere/pseuds/swiftishere
Summary: Lewis is proud of his garden. It's small, and probably not impressive by most peoples' standards, but it'shisand so to him it's as beautiful as anything in a magazine.So ofcoursehe notices when flowers start going missing.But who steals from a garden? That's... crazy, right?
Relationships: Arthur & Lewis (Mystery Skulls Animated), Background Lewis & Vivi
Series: MSA One-Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1440190
Comments: 15
Kudos: 112





	Green Thumb, Sticky Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> i think? there may have been a tumblr post that this idea is derived from? longtime readers may be noticing a pattern of me retaining information with zero background facts. anyway basically as always if this sounds familiar and you can find a source, shout it in the comments.
> 
> edit: WE FOUND IT! it was [this awful aus post!](https://awful-aus.tumblr.com/post/116941769918/awful-au-196)

Lewis sighs as he investigates his garden. It’s the same thing _again_ – a flower in the middle of a row, small and hidden in the others enough that most people wouldn’t have noticed, has been snipped cleanly off at the stem.

If it was just once or twice, he would’ve put it out of his mind. But it had been happening daily for almost a week now. At some point during the night, _something_ comes in and snips off one – always just _one_ – of his flowers. A few tiger lilies, some marigolds, once – most notably – a sunflower. If this is an animal’s doing, as he’d first thought, it has alarming restraint and _very_ sharp teeth.

“Did you do this?” he asks one of the deadbeats, which has slinked up next to him to investigate what he’s doing.

“Mrr?” the cat chirps back at him, blinking. He sighs and gives it the ear-scratches it’s looking for, turning back to the flowerbed.

He doesn’t want to do anything about it, doesn’t want this to be a _problem_ , but now it seems like he has no choice if he wants to keep his flowers. And he’s spent a lot of time working on this garden, enough that the thought of doing enough damage to any of the plants to _kill_ them makes his heart hurt. But he also just… isn't sure _what_ to do when he doesn't even know exactly what the problem is.

He sits down cross-legged on the stone and pulls out his phone to text Vivi.

_It happened again._

_Okay that’s just weird_

_Same deal? One flower, real clean cut_

_Yep. I’m starting to think you’re right and I’m the victim of a very weird thief._

_Maybe you need to set up a watch_

_Sit in the window with the lights off so they don’t see you_

_Wait for the perp to come to you_

That’s… actually not a bad idea. If it _is_ a person, it probably won’t take more than one good scare to get them to leave, and if it’s an animal, well there’s that mystery solved.

_That’s actually not a bad idea._

_You’ll be like a kid waiting for santa claus_

Starting to sound like less of a good idea. _Sure, if Santa Claus stole things instead of leaving presents. Is there one that does that?_

_Well there’s the yule lads_

And now he’s probably got her going. _I’m turning my phone off._

* * *

He still has his doubts about this plan, but here he is anyway, sitting by the window with the lights off and staring into his backyard.

If he wasn't on the lookout for a debatably-extant thief, it would almost be peaceful here. He could easily imagine himself with a mug of tea in his hands, observing the comings and goings of the nighttime wildlife through his yard, maybe opening the window just a touch so he could feel the cool night air. That _would_ be nice. He's almost surprised it's never occurred to him before.

Now isn't really the time for that, though. He straightens up again and refocuses his gaze on the garden.

And as if on cue, only a few moments later a dark shape drops into his yard. It is decidedly _not_ a deer.

It straightens up out of the landing crouch and okay, yeah, that’s a person. He sees them, leaning on the fence with one hand, do a quick scan of the yard.

And then they turn and walk closer to the back gate and _they’re going for his shears, aren’t they? They’re going to use_ **_his_ **_shears to steal_ **_his_ **_flowers!_

That does it. He stands and starts heading for the back door. He’s going to go out there and catch them before they can escape-

-but he must make too much noise opening the door, because the second it opens all the way the thief has locked eyes with him. Details are hard to make out in the dark, but he gets an actual look at the general _shape_ of his thief. Skinny, pale, maybe on the tall side (Lewis has never been great at judging heights), wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt and similarly dark-colored pants. The shears in one hand, freshly-snipped ( _stolen_ ) flower in the other, and they're still half-bent over from when they were kneeling to cut it. They start to back up, glancing around.

“Hey-“ he starts, stepping forward, not really sure where he’s going with this – _stop_ or _what do you think you’re doing_ or _don’t move!_

Not that it matters anyway, because before he can say any of those things, the shears fall to the ground as the thief grabs the fence and in a quick couple movements, vaults over it and into the alley.

…okay, they may be a thief, but he has to give them credit. That was a pretty impressive jump.

Unfortunately for them, there’s only two ways out of that alley, and he has a gate that opens right into it. There’s almost _no_ way, he thinks as he sprints for the gate, that they’ll make it out of sight before he’s out there.

And sure enough, as the gate swings open, a dark shape brushes past his face. The thief’s hands stick out in the dark, almost brushing the ground as they break into a run.

Lewis gives chase almost without thinking, somehow managing to match their desperation-fueled speed for a while. They end up on the main road, dirt changing to cold concrete under his feet, and he just manages to see them dive into another alley.

Except when he gets there, he realizes it’s too narrow for _anyone_ to get very far into with any speed. The whole thing is laced with pipes, too, that would require a _lot_ of clambering around to navigate.

There’s a noise above him, like something knocking against stone, that makes him look up at the roofs above… and he suddenly realizes where the thief has gone.

Once again, kind of a dick move, but impressive.

And there is _no way_ he can follow them. He gives up and just leans on the wall in front of him to catch his breath.

Over the sound of his own sigh, he hears – or thinks he hears, at least – a huffed exhale from above, and he glances up again.

“Hey, look, if you’re still up there,” he decides to try, acting on his suspicion that they’re hanging around for some reason, “I’m not gonna… I don’t want to hurt you or anything. Just… please stop stealing my flowers? Some of them are delicate and I… just… you’ll hurt them if you take too much. …Also they’re my flowers and you’re stealing.”

There’s a moment of silence, long enough to half-convince Lewis that he’s talking to air.

“…th-that’s the last one. I promise.” The voice is a touch higher-pitched than his, and a little hoarse. “I… I won’t c-come back.”

He hesitates for a moment, staring up at the roof. “If you _really_ mean that, then… go ahead. As long as that’s the _last_ one.”

Even after saying that, he turns the thief’s words over in his head as he trudges back home. He can’t help but doubt their promise, just a bit.

* * *

After some discussion with Vivi, they both agree that it's probably reasonable to sit up another night, just to make sure they really _don't_ come back. So Lewis finds himself once again posted up by the window in the dark, this time armed with a mug of warm tea and a sweater. He was right last night, this _is_ pretty comfortable. Even if he _is_ still technically watching out for a thief.

Unfortunately, though, the peace and quiet doesn't last long. A familiar dark shape hops over the fence and into his yard.

This time, Lewis is ready. He's up and moving as soon as he sees them, practically dropping his mug on the table as he heads for the backyard. He makes enough noise to be heard, but he’s still out the door _just_ in time to grab the thief's shoulder before they jump the opposite fence.

They both stand in silence for a moment, breathing hard. He's reminded, faintly, of the feeling of catching a wild animal and neither of them being quite sure what to do about it. Half stunned, half nervous.

"I- I- I'm not here to st-steal anything," the thief starts.

"Oh, you were _just passing through?_ " A hint of annoyance creeps into Lewis's voice.

"Yeah."

"No, that's ridiculous." He shifts his grip and lifts the thief slightly – a small part of him notes with surprise how easy that is – and turns them around so he can actually _look_ at them while he's lecturing them.

It's the first actual good look he's gotten at the thief. It's a guy around his age, with spikes of orange around his face indicating the hair hidden by the jacket hood, and shadows under his eyes that suggest exhaustion. He's holding a bouquet in one hand.

He recognizes the flowers. Poppies, lilies, a single sunflower for a centerpiece. They’re _his_. He made a _bouquet_ out of _stolen flowers_. That's... some adjective, probably, that he can't think of right now. It's definitely not great.

"So who are these for?" He gestures at the flowers. "Do they know where they came from?"

"Uh," is all the thief says in response, gripping them a little tighter.

"Is this gonna be a habit for you? Building arrangements from _my garden?_ "

"Uh."

"Don't you think I should at least know who these are for, since they are, you know, _mine?_ "

" _Uh_ ," he says, this one more drawn-out than the last two. Lewis suddenly realizes he's lifted the thief off the ground a little, and he's folding his arms and legs up in a manner not unlike a scruffed cat.

Definitely not at all sheepish, he lowers him back down to the ground. "Seriously, though. I _told_ you not to come back here."

"I just- I d-don't know how to..." his eyes flick up to the fence. "to get... with- without going through your yard."

He just stands there blinking for a moment, a little dumbfounded. " _How?_ " How does someone learn directions to _anywhere_ by climbing through stranger's backyards? That's...

...that lines up with everything else he knows about this thief so far, actually.

"I'm s-sorry! Just... let me go and- and I'll g-get out of your hair. You'll _never_ s-see me again."

"...No."

"Oh boy." He's holding the flowers in both hands now. At this rate, he's going to crush them before he gets anywhere near the recipient.

"Maybe I _do_ want to meet whoever's getting my flowers. So actually," he releases the grip on his shoulder, "go ahead. You can walk right to your destination. And _I'm_ going to follow you."

A part of him worries that this is mean-spirited, a little too far, but he is _really_ not happy about the flowers. And maybe a little humiliation will stop him from coming back again.

"Are you... _sure?_ " The thief glances at the fence again.

" _Very_.” He stands back, gesturing at the still-open door to his house. “How about starting from an actual _street_ this time.”

* * *

They're taking a weird route. Almost circuitous, weaving through side-streets and alleys and almost never sticking to one road for more than a block or so. He's almost tempted to say that the thief is trying to figure out where to go. But he follows without saying anything, content for the moment to assume they’re going the right way and it’s just a weird path.

It’s not like he has anywhere to be. And it’s not a bad night for a walk, either; it’s late autumn and the air is turning cold, enough to make his breath visible, but he’s got his sweater on so he hardly feels it. The moon, hanging bright in the sky, illuminates the path well enough for him not to worry about tripping. Dead leaves crunch under his feet as he follows in the thief’s path.

He’s not sure how long the walk takes, all in all. Lewis doesn't realize they've been slowly making their way to the edge of town until they're almost there. Is he... taking him out of town? Should he be worried?

But then they come to a stop, _finally_ , in front of a wrought-iron gate. It’s part of a fence of the same make that rings a huge lot – mostly empty, grassy space with one white gabled building off to the side.

Lewis recognizes, after a moment, where they are – the sign next to the gate helps – and a cold pit starts to form in his stomach.

"Why are we stopping?" he calls, hoping this isn't their destination. That they just paused to contemplate for a second, or something.

That he didn't just force this stranger to lead him to the _cemetery_.

"We're here," the thief, unfortunately, says, pausing to glance back with one hand on the bars. His voice doesn't have any _obvious_ change to it, but the cracks in it are a little more pronounced than it had been. He stands there unmoving and looking at him, as if waiting for something.

"D-did you... want to- to come in? 'Cause if I open th-the gate it'll trip th-the alarms and..."

"No- no, that's fine," he stammers quickly, holding up his hands. "You can... go on ahead."

He stares at him for a moment longer, but eventually places the flowers in his teeth and scrambles over the fence.

He's bringing flowers to the cemetery.

God, Lewis feels like such an _asshole_.

* * *

He has plenty more time to reflect on just how shitty a move this was, while he's waiting for the stranger outside the gates. He comes to the conclusion of 'very,' and then contemplates how weird it is that he did this in the dead of night, instead of... any other time when they were open and he wasn't trespassing. He's not going to ask, he decides – in fact, he's not planning to ask _anything_ else of this stranger – but it is definitely a little weird.

That's as far as he gets before the stranger suddenly materializes and hops back over the fence. He stands up and then pauses, staring.

"You're st-still here.” His voice is quiet now, low and nearly toneless, save for a barely-noticeable hint of surprise.

Wait, was he expecting him to leave? _Shit_. "I, uh, wasn't sure what else to do."

The caught-the-wild-animal feeling is back. The air feels thick, something Lewis is _sure_ he's imagining, the tension can't actually be as pronounced as it feels. That doesn't stop the pressure, though.

"Listen, I'm _sorry_ ," he launches into, not able to bear the silence any longer. "I- I shouldn't have asked you, it was stupid, if I'd known you were going _here_ , I _never_ would have..."

"Hey, it's okay." The stranger holds up his hands, stepping forwards. "I- I mean I d-did steal from you, f-fair's fair."

"They're flowers, they grow back! This was _totally_ unnecessary, I should have just let you take them-"

"'s fine, you d-didn't know! 's my fault for that st-stupid plan anyway-"

"No- listen, I really am sorry, if there's _anything_ I can do to make up for it..."

They both stop. Lewis processes what he said, and then braces for the inevitable _you can start by leaving me alone forever_.

Instead, he gets a hesitant, "if that's... a g-genuine offer..." The thief fiddles with one of his wristbands, not quite looking at him. "I could... use a ride home?"

"I can do that." The favor actually takes a weight off his shoulders. "We're... actually not that far from my house still."

" _Fuck_ ," he says at that, burying his face in his hands. Lewis can't help but laugh at that, mostly out of surprise. He really _hadn't_ known where he was going.

Luckily, Lewis still recognizes some of the streets around here, enough to know how to get back to his house – and more importantly, his car. This time, with him leading, their route is much more direct. It’s only a few turns until they’re at the right street.

He turns around when he reaches the car. Despite the fact that he’d been consciously trying to slow himself down for a while, the thief has still ended up trailing behind him. He’s wrapped his arms around himself and, Lewis notices as he draws closer, he’s shivering.

Right, it _is_ really cold out. And he’s been out here for longer, and just in that light hoodie instead of Lewis’s thick sweater. Plus, he... doesn’t exactly have a lot of mass to conserve heat to begin with, from the looks of things.

“Hey, do you... want to come inside for a bit?” he offers as the thief draws close.

He looks up, obviously surprised. “ _Why_...?”

“You look like you’re freezing.” He decides to be honest. And it’s true, he’s shaking pretty bad now that he gets a good look at him. “And the car’s not gonna be much warmer. If you come in I can get you... a blanket and some hot chocolate, maybe?”

“You... don’t have to do that.” He still seems a little- stunned, maybe.

“I know! I… I want to.”

He glances up at the house, and then back down to him. “...oh- okay?”

* * *

"You can, uh, sit down on the couch. Take your shoes off first, though?" Lewis kicks his own off, shoving them under the shelf he normally keeps them on.

In the kitchen, he starts going through the motions of making hot chocolate. At first he’s just planning to do the standard preparation, milk and sugar and cocoa powder, but – maybe it’s just inertia – he finds himself making _his_ version, grabbing without thinking the vanilla extract and the usual spices. Mix the dry ingredients in the mug first, pour the hot milk in slowly, stirring at the same time – some inevitably gets on the counter, and he reflects as he wipes it with his sleeve that he will _never_ understand how his mother does this without spilling anything.

He almost regrets just making one mug, by the time it’s done. It smells so good, and so familiar, he can almost taste it. But he’ll just have to make himself a cup later – this one is reserved for his guest.

His guest the flower thief. Who he completely embarrassed for no reason. And then invited into his house, _also_ basically for no reason except to alleviate his conscience.

Who was now playing with one of the cats.

“Oh, hey, you found the deadbeats!” he comments as he holds out the mug.

The thief looks up from leading the cat back and forth across his lap. Now that they’re in an actually lit area and not just relying on the moonlight, Lewis notices that one of the hands poking out of his hoodie is a prosthetic, polished metal and slightly bigger than the other. No wonder the cat was so quick to warm up to him – that one’s obsessed with anything shiny.

“Deadbeats?” he echoes, taking the mug with one hand, the other still dancing around the delighted cat.

Lewis waves a hand at the cat as he sits down next to him. “They’re all strays, but I guess they like my house ‘cause they keep coming back. I try to look out for them, take them to the vet when they need to and stuff, but they’re not _mine_ and they don’t do anything in return, so. Deadbeats.”

He gives a short, surprised laugh at that. The cat gets one final pat before he stops playing with it to hold the mug with both hands. And then he stops for a moment, expression shifting.

“I, uh, I really am s-sorry about your flowers. I didn’t- didn't think…”

“It’s fine.” He gives him a dismissive wave. “Why don’t we just… both forget about it.”

“Are you _sure_? I mean, I did- and now you’re... making hot chocolate and I… I just…” he looks around at the house.

“ _Seriously_ , it’s _fine_.” He thinks for a moment, and then decides to toss in a little more truth. “I would actually prefer it if you agreed to forget about it. And also… me following you.”

“Think I can do th-that.”

They both relax a little at that. The cat continues to paw at Arthur’s hand, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t comment on it.

He finally takes a sip of the cocoa, closing his eyes- and then opens them again with a “ _mm!_ ” of surprise.

“Holy shit, th-that's _really_ fucking good,” he says, lowering the mug and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. It’s the first thing he’s said since he caught him that didn’t sound at least sort of distant, Lewis notes.

“Uh, thanks?”

“ _Damn_.”

“It’s just-“

“No, no, don’t tell me!” He holds up his hands, speaking quickly. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

“Oh- okay. It’s just, it’s easy to make-“

“ _Shhhh_ ,” he says insistently, almost poking him in the mouth with a finger. “I… I definitely d-don’t have the st-stuff for it, anyway.” His voice falls back into the quiet, subdued tone from before.

Lewis laughs a little at that, waving a vaguely placating hand at him, and gets an amused half-smile in return. “I’m shushed.”

They both sit in silence for a while after that, as the thief drinks the rest of the hot chocolate.

-He’s been calling him _the thief_ this entire time, which is just now striking him as odd.

“Hey, I don’t think I know your name?” he decides to try. It’s possible that he doesn’t want to tell him, which would be fair, but he figures it’s worth a shot anyway.

He looks up. “Oh. Uh, Arthur.” There’s a moment’s hesitation before he adds, “and… a- and what about you?”

“Lewis.” He holds out a hand, but the thief- _Arthur_ doesn’t make any move to take it. He thinks about adding _nice to meet you_ , but he isn’t even sure that’s true.

After a while with no response, he quietly lowers his hand.

“I- I should probably get- get going soon,” Arthur says.

“Oh!” He’d almost forgotten he’d promised to drive him home. “Right, of course, we can-“ and then he pauses. He takes in again the way he’s still staring into the mug, how he’s been savoring each sip of the cocoa, and an idea pops into his head. It’s probably silly, or inadvisable, or something, but right now he doesn’t see anything wrong with it.

“Will you wait for a second? I need to… get something from the kitchen.”

He left the pan of milk on the stove, still half full, so he doesn’t really need to heat it up again. He grabs one of the travel mugs out of the cabinet and starts mixing spices again, eyeballing the measurements a little higher than last time for the larger container. Once the lid is screwed on tight, he puts the now-basically-empty pan in the sink and heads back to the living room, followed this time by a couple curious deadbeats sniffing at what he’s carrying.

“Oh, s-something for the road?” Arthur asks when he sees what he’s carrying.

Lewis holds the mug out to him. “It’s for you.”

He stares at it for a moment.

“Oh. Are… are you s-sure?”

“Yep,” he says, and sort of shakes it in his hand, holding it out more insistently.

Finally he reaches out and takes it, slowly and hesitantly, like he's still not quite sure about it. "...thanks."

More or less satisfied with the exchange, Lewis stands. "Okay. Now we're ready to go."

* * *

After Arthur gives him the address, the car ride goes by mostly in silence, giving Lewis plenty of time to think. Mostly about the drive and the best way to get there, and turning his high-beams off whenever a lone car drives past them.

He spares a glance over at his companion. Arthur's curled up in his seat and staring out the windshield with an almost vacant expression. He's stopped sipping the travel mug, apparently too lost in whatever it is he's thinking about to remember it. Lewis looks back to the road.

“This is it, right?” he asks after another while has passed, slowing down in front of a small house almost on the other edge of town. Arthur glances past him at the dark sign and the one lit window, and nods. And then blinks and leans forward.

“ _Shit_ , is the light on?”

“Um…” Lewis glances back himself to confirm that yes, it is. “Looks like it?”

He groans, leaning back in the seat. “He _noticed_. And here I th-thought I was being all… sneaky and shit.”

“ _Who_ noticed?”

“Lance- my uncle. Th-this, uh, he owns the place.”

Lewis frowns, looking back again. “Are you…?”

“I am not s- _supposed_ to be- to be out at, uh,” he glances at the clock, “one- _fuck_ , two in the morning st-stealing flowers, no.”

“I mean- are you… going to be okay?”

“What?” He's running a hand through his hair under the hood, but pauses to give him a slightly confused look. “ _Oh_ \- no, I mean, he’s probably worried as all hell but- th-that’s it. I just… didn’t really want him to- to know about,” he gestures vaguely at the car. “Y’know. Uh, all of- of th-this.”

_Worried_ , not mad. Lewis can’t help but feel a little relieved at that.

Arthur grabs the travel mug, and then pauses, holding it up. “Uh, this is- isn’t empty…?”

It takes him a minute to figure out what he’s asking. “You can keep it! I have too many of those mugs anyway.”

He glances at the mug and then back at him. “Are you s-sure?”

“Totally.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He opens the door with one hand, mug still in the other. “Cool, well, s-see-” and then he pauses, and the half-waving hand turns into a point. “Never s-see you again. Promise is a p-promise.”

He can’t help but feel… a little disappointed at that. But tonight has, _objectively_ , not been great for either of them, and it’s probably best if they both forget about it. “Right. Ah, goodbye forever.”

Arthur’s parting smile feels a _little_ forced. “‘bye,” he agrees, and then shuts the door with a wave.


End file.
